


This is my beard. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

by BoboBibbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 06:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11618013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoboBibbles/pseuds/BoboBibbles
Summary: Hagrid buys Dumbledore joke beard shampoo.





	This is my beard. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

  
Snape burst in through the door to Dumbledore’s office, his eyes wild, his greasy hair askew.  
Panting heavily, he wiped his sweat off his brow and spoke.  
“Dumbledore, there’s been an emergen-— oh my God.”  
Dumbledore stood near his window overlooking the grounds. Purple robed and usually solemn, he had a look of sheer delight on his face as his beard danced through the air, wobbling and shooting about, as if trying to escape from his chin. His floofy white strands caught the rays of the shimmering sun and it looked positively alive as it danced in the air. Positively majestic.  
“Ah, Severus. So good of you to join me. I was just exploring what magic my beard was capable of. “  
Snape stared hard at the writhing mass of floofy white beard attached to Dumbledore’s chin. Normally dignified and reserved, it looked outright comical now.  
Snape’s forehead crinkled as he visibly strained to process what was in front of him.  
“Look! It’s a sword!”  
Dumbledore’s beard wobbled a bit in midair, then split into two halves, two sharp-looking halves. Then they continued whoosing through the air in quick swipes.

“Oh, Albus,” Snape sighed. “What in Merlin’s name is… No, no, never mind that. I have urgent news! It’s—”  
“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Severus. It’s Sunday! Toss those worries in a pensieve and join me.”  
Dumbledore’s beard wobbled and its two halves became a single whole again. Then it resumed wobbling in midair.  
“I’m afraid I don’t have a beard with which to join you, headmaster.”  
“Ah, so it is. So it is. How inconsiderate of me, Severus. I apologize.”  
“Not at all, but— wait, hang on! Never mind that! Albus, there’s urgent news!”  
But Dumbledore wasn’t paying attention.  
“Isn’t it amazing?” Dumbledore said, smiling. “I mean, I told Hagrid to get me some beard-care products on his way back from Diagon Alley, but it looks like he’s picked up something from a joke shop instead. Look, look!”  
Dumbledore’s beard shot through the room and wrapped around a quill on his desk. Then it reeled back towards Dumbledore’s chin, pulling the quill along with it.  
In a quick snap, Dumbledore grabbed the quill and held it up, smiling.

  
“Rather extraordinary, isn’t it? Oh, what will they think of next. We certainly didn’t have things like these back in my days.”  
Snape was wide eyed.  
“No words can describe it, am I right?” Dumbledore said, his old man persona disintegrating by the minute. He looked positively giddy with child-like enthusiasm now.  
“Extraordinary. Indeed. Now, there’s been an emergency in the—”  
“Oh, you’ve left the door open. Let me!” said Dumbledore.  
Snape felt a singing burn where the beard had shot past his face, grabbed onto the knob of the office door, and slammed it shut. Then it shot back again, singing Snape on the exact bit of his cheek as it reeled back into Dumbledore’s chin once again.  
“It feels like I’m not even controlling it, like it’s obeying my thoughts! You can’t imagine how wonderful this feels, Snape!”  
“You… You’re not controlling it?”  
“Sometimes, it certainly feels like I’m not! It’s like it’s got a mind of its own!”  
“Uh... Shouldn’t you… I mean, for Merlin’s sake, headmaster, I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but shouldn’t you never trust something that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain?”  
Dumbledore shook his head.  
“Don't be such a fuddy-duddy, Snape. This is why you’re still single at your age.”  
Snape closed his eyes, attempting to collect himself.  
“He’s the most powerful wizard in the world,” Snape thought to himself. “Don’t tick him off. Don’t tick him off..”  
Snape looked up at Dumbledore, his mind clear once again. Dumbledore was busy giggling to himself and shooting his beard around the room, taking quick swipes and changing beard shapes to the applause of the portraits that hung around them.  
“Oh, all right. But, no! The reason I came here is because—”  
“Oh, there’s no stopping you, is there? And I only just got done with my Wizengamot duties too… Ah, well.”  
“You’ll hear me out finally?”  
“Of course, Snape. Of course. I am headmaster after all. I have to get to it sometime, I suppose. But while we talk, would you care for some refreshments?”  
“Hmmm? I’m not sure we have time for… Oh, go on then. All right.”  
“Wonderful! Wonderful! Here, have an apple. “  
Dumbledore handed Snape a plate with a peeled and cut apple.  
“Here you go. I cut it myself,” said Dumbledore, beaming at him.  
Snape blinked. He took one look at the plate in Dumbledore’s hand, then back up at that beaming face wearing those stupid half moon glasses.  
The door burst open, and Snape thundered out of his office, muttering under his breath what was probably all kinds of obscenities and curses. The door slammed shut behind Snape.  
“Wait, Snape! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me hear what you have to say!”  
Snape screamed incoherently from behind the door, and Dumbledore got the impression that Snape was shooting him a very rude gesture that he could not see.  
Dumbledore sighed. He dropped down into his comfortable smooshy chair that always made him feel better at times like this.  
He looked at the cut apple across the table, and without any conscious thought, his beard shot out once again and grabbed it, then reeled it in towards him, dropping it in front of him.  
“How rude. I mean, I cut it myself, with a proper knife and all, beards aren’t hygienic to cut fruits with after all, but you never listen, do you Snape? Always the drama queen…”  
Dumbledore’s beard hoisted a piece of apple and chucked it into his open mouth, and he began to chew, his head resting on his desk, the afternoon sun blazing down into his room. A giant splash from outside announced that the giant squid had probably caught something and was loudly beating it to death before it ate it.  
All was calm. All was serene.

  
MEANWHILE

  
Outside the grounds, down in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, birds and tiny woodland critters scattered as thundering footsteps drew near. A horde of wizards in hooded cloaks marched through the trees, marching in synchrony with one another, their wands at their sides. Great, ghastly figures known Dementors hovered through the air at their sides, and a single pale, noseless figure glided through the air, leading them all, Tom Riddle, wearing a ghastly smile on his face, his black robes rippling behind him as his body drifted through the skies, narrowing in on a little castle that housed thousands of children and one very, very powerful and oblivious man, eating apples with his beard.


End file.
